Stone Appeal
by Loryn Wilde
Summary: Ch.5 - REAL ending uploaded. When Obi-Wan is rescued after being tortured, he rediscovers the deceivingly great distance between he and his master. Without the help of a strong training bond, can he survive the aftermath of his ordeal alone?
1. SA: 1

Summary: Shameless, downright, out and out, through and through Obi- Torture/angst. When Obi-Wan returns home after being tortured, he rediscovers the deceivingly great distance between he and his master. Without the help of a strong training bond, can he survive the aftermath of his ordeal alone?  
  
Torture, angst, mush.  
  
Age: 15  
  
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to George Lucas.  
  
Is this ooc? Probably. But I needed a break from my big story. This will be comparatively short. I haven't thought it through in the least, but was in dire need of angst and mush. :oP  
  
  
  
Stone Appeal  
  
loryn wilde  
  
  
  
A room so black he could not see his hand an inch from his own face.  
  
At fifteen, Obi-Wan Kenobi had relatively little experience with death, but this place reeked of it. He pressed himself against the wall, wishing he could just slip through its many cracks and hide there. *They* had left the door unlocked.  
  
He shivered and a soft whimper interrupted the blackness.  
  
*They* had also left a body outside.  
  
Stabbed to death in at least nine different places. He had heard the impact of each of the blows, the forthcoming cry, the quiet gurgling sound of the dagger being pulled out, and then the soft hiss as it was re-sheathed in a new place.  
  
Eyes open.  
  
Mouth twisted into some terrible mockery of a real scream.  
  
Blood gathering and cooling in stagnant pools on the crumbling dull gray permacrete. Its stench wafted and creeped into his dark room, a curling, sickening odor.  
  
He had caught a glimpse of the body when one of his captors had opened the door to come into his room and check his Force-suppressing collar.  
  
A sudden and sharp rap sounded on the door. Obi-Wan jerked, violently startled, and could not help the terrified shriek that rushed out of his bruised throat. Laughter outside, then a dull thump. The young Padawan imagined the corpse being kicked. He lowered his forehead to rest on his drawn-up knees.  
  
"I don't think your friend is going to make it!" Grated cackling floated in the air, already thick and heavy with suffering, then faded along with the sound of footfall.  
  
Never mind that the man had not been Obi-Wan's friend – he was – or at least had been – a living being. Had lived a life. Had his own unique presence in the Force, as all beings did. The apprentice had never known the man but felt sure that no crime warranted such a gruesome death.  
  
The youth's wide eyes remained locked in front of him – where he knew the door to be.  
  
The door. Unlocked.  
  
Obi-Wan's heart slammed up against his ribs, the loud roar of rushing blood filled his ears. He was sick with himself. If only there was another way…  
  
Shakily he forced himself to his feet, swallowing the sheer terror that threatened to engulf him. Alarm tingled in his every nerve and he shuffled forward, hands out in front of him to feel for the door. His injuries begged for treatment and he did his best to ignore them. Cold metal touched his fingertips and he recoiled, sobbing out loud.  
  
The body! The wetness felt icy on his cheeks. He made no effort to stop the tears. His teeth chattered noisily and he groped the wall for the switch. Dread seized his heart in such an unrelenting manner that he thought it might stop entirely. He wept aloud now, and depressed the small lever. The door swished open and Obi-Wan's eyes were assaulted with the bright light of the corridor. He stumbled backward a bit, blinking rapidly.  
  
Oh, Force!  
  
With the support of the door gone the body had rolled onto its back and one arm was flung out, reaching for Obi-Wan. He stared in paralyzed horror at the clouded, murky eyes.  
  
A thick handle protruded from the neck. The boy noted its deep green hue, its custom grip, the flecks of blood drying to a rugged rust color, and placed its image in his mind with that of its owner.  
  
Obi-Wan's arms snaked around his sides and he hugged himself tightly. Unable to tear his gaze from the dagger so viciously stabbed into the side of the corpse's neck he slowly backed away, limbs trembling with sickening fear. His knees suddenly gave out and he crashed down to the ground, dry heaving for a few moments before he was able to crawl back to the tentative safety of the wall furthest from the door – furthest from the body.  
  
He curled up against the cool stone and squeezed his eyes shut. He imagined that he was a brave knight and not just a stupid boy who was hurt and afraid.  
  
He imagined the glorious peaks of the temple towers.  
  
He imagined his friends, his teachers –  
  
His master.  
  
The last thought elicited a sharp moan. His cheeks flushed at the very idea of Qui-Gon seeing him like this. His master would be so ashamed.  
  
One eye cracked open, a sliver of dusky blue in the dim light, and spotted the mauled corpse. Obi-Wan made his body as compact and small looking as he could, hiding his face behind one arm.  
  
Through tears he rocked himself and prayed someone would find him soon. "There is no death, only the Force. There is no death, only the Force. There is no death…" 


	2. SA: 2

Stone Appeal: 2  
  
  
  
Qui-Gon Jinn walked swiftly down the empty corridor, not bothering with discreetness. Most of the building's occupants had fled at the first sign of his coming, and those that had not were too ill equipped to confront a Jedi Master any day.  
  
There were few places to turn in the corridor; this being the main hall, many rooms branched off of it. He checked each until the corridor ended and his only option was to descend the staircase at the end of it. The height difference between levels was not much and no lift was required.  
  
He jogged down the new passageway but came to an abrupt halt when he reached the last door, which had been left open. A slight curl of his lip was the only outward sign of his disgust.  
  
An ugly way to be killed, for sure. He gave a minute shake of his head at the presence of the dagger in the corpse's neck.  
  
Messy.  
  
He wondered briefly if Obi-Wan had met the same fate but terminated the thought when he heard weeping. Besides, he was *fairly* certain he would feel it if the boy died. He peered into the room ahead and was relieved to find his apprentice there. The relief was soon mixed with an awkward embarrassment:  
  
Obi-Wan had curled himself into a ball and was *crying*…  
  
He shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably and cleared his throat, lingering in the corridor. He thought he should wait until the apprentice could gain control of his emotions, but was too eager to leave. "Obi-Wan?" He wondered why the boy had not left on his own – the door *had* been open –  
  
Alarm flared in his chest.  
  
"Obi-Wan!" he fairly leapt over the body and into the room, then bent down on one knee beside his apprentice. "How seriously are you injured?"  
  
Force! How could he be so dense? They had probably hurt the boy too badly for him to walk without assistance – and the collar Qui-Gon quickly removed had made certain he would get none.  
  
The master felt echoes of his Padawan's torn emotions bombarding his powerful shields and patiently waited for the boy to regain his composure. Obi-Wan raised red and desperate eyes to the man. His face was off color in some places – bruised. Gods, but the boy was a mess. He looked so vulnerable, so needy –  
  
Qui-Gon rocked back on his heels to put some space between them and cleared his throat once more. "Are your legs hurt very badly?" he asked neutrally, deciding not to dwell on the hurt that flitted across the blue-green of the youth's eyes.  
  
The Padawan shook his head. He straightened somewhat. "No – not too badly."  
  
Qui-Gon frowned.  
  
"My head," the boy explained, gingerly bringing one hand to a lump behind his ear. "I have a – uh – a headache," he finished lamely, a red flush creeping into his cheeks. He knew he would have to provide the Jedi Master with his real excuse for not leaving sooner or later – and dreaded it.  
  
His master clipped his saber to his belt and pulled his apprentice closer, inspecting the welt behind the boy's ear. One big hand closed around his shoulder. Obi-Wan was badly bruised there and it hurt terribly but he did not dare pull away. His heart sped up and his breath caught in his throat. He momentarily forgot his initial relief at not being alone anymore. The Padawan could not remember the last time he had been this close to his master. The man's breathing was steady in his ear and he strained to hear the beat of the Jedi's heart. Strong, capable fingers lightly caressed the dark and ugly bruises at his throat  
  
But too soon Qui-Gon pulled away. His gaze found Obi-Wan's and he said, somewhat tersely, "You might have a concussion. Is that all?"  
  
Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped and his brow creased uncertainly. "They hurt me," he said, unsure of what his master wanted. Didn't the man know? "They hit me with – " He stopped suddenly and shook the images of cruel faces, weapons, and blood from his mind. One look at Qui-Gon told him he would receive no help with dealing with that. Probably best to just forget about it all. He cast his eyes downward. "That's all," he finished softly.  
  
"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon warned. Even through his thick shields he sensed there was more.  
  
But the boy shook his head. "It's not bad. My back was cut – " He could only imagine what it looked like, but knew the long knife wounds were deep – and probably infected, by now. They had bled steadily for hours. "It's not serious," he assured, glancing back up at the older man. He firmly pushed aside memories of powerful hands holding him down while he squirmed under the excruciating kiss of the dagger. He noticed his vision seemed to flicker somewhat when he moved his head too suddenly.  
  
Qui-Gon was silent for a moment, weighing his Padawan's words. He had a feeling there was more the boy was not telling him but decided against pursuing it for the time being. There would be ample time to discuss it later. "All right," he said, standing. Annoyance flickered within him when his Padawan did not do the same. Only the Gods knew why the boy had not left on his own. Obi-Wan had never been prone to playing 'damsel in distress' before. He snorted quietly at the thought.  
  
"What about – " The apprentice's quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. "What about the body?"  
  
Was that a slight tremor Qui-Gon detected in the boy's words?  
  
"What? Oh." The master glanced back at the corpse and winced. "I'll notify the authorities. We won't be able to take it with us."  
  
Obi-Wan exhaled softly in something like relief.  
  
"Come, Obi-Wan."  
  
The boy stood with some difficulty and Qui-Gon politely waited for him to gain some balance before turning to go.  
  
"The ship is not far. You may rest as soon as we board." He stepped over the body in the doorway and turned to face his Padawan. "Once I get in touch with the area's authorities and get us off planet I can help you with your injuries…" He trailed off and narrowed his eyes in concern. "Obi-Wan?" The boy was still standing where he had left him, trembling viciously; eyes closed and face turned away. He swayed gently on his feet.  
  
A long silence – static and uncomfortable and increasingly tense – stretched between them.  
  
"I can't look at it," Obi-Wan whispered finally and the terror he felt was agonizingly clear in his words. "I'm sorry." Tears stung his eyes once more.  
  
Cry too easily.  
  
Too weak.  
  
"Please, just – just do something, Master," he begged, not caring how pathetic he had to have appeared, "Please." He forced his eyes open to see if he could gauge how strongly the man might be disgusted and was vaguely startled to find his vision blurry and rapidly growing dark. He was at first grateful – the grisly details of the ugly corpse were impossible to make out. Qui-Gon was still standing in the corridor.  
  
Obi-Wan wondered suddenly as his knees gave out and he crumpled to the ground if it were at all common for masters not to catch their Padawan's when they fell. 


	3. SA: 3

Quick note: I totally apologize for any errors! I have no beta reader so they're all my fault. I know they can distract you from the story so I'm trying to catch them. I'll go back over previous chapters and fix them when I can. Like you all really care. :oP  
  
  
  
Stone Appeal: 3  
  
  
  
Qui-Gon had not considered how weak the boy might be, either from hunger or thirst or the beatings he had apparently received. Thinning his lips and bottling the sudden worry that had flared up inside of him he re-entered the room and hefted the unconscious Padawan up into his arms. Obi-Wan was fifteen and growing fast but the older Jedi was caught off guard by how light the compact body felt.  
  
This close to the boy Qui-Gon became aware of the damp coolness of the youth's skin and held him closer – purely for warmth, of course, though he could not deny the absurd comfort that alighted within him at being reunited with his lost apprentice. He was even tempted to access the bond they shared – for reasons other than mission ones. Assuring himself that he only needed to touch minds with the apprentice – *his* apprentice – to be sure the boy was in no immediate danger, he weakened his mental shields just enough to create a link between them.  
  
Qui-Gon nearly staggered under the onslaught of emotion and feeling that quickly flooded his senses. Behind the crash of worry, rush of innumerable insecurities, the fear and pain that had simmered and built up over the past week, was a single overwhelming, driving desire – no – a need.  
  
Unable to resist his curiosity he probed further into the boy's mind…  
  
…and hastily jerked out, slamming his shields back in place, all of it happening so quickly that the teen in his arms seemed to deflate somewhat with the rushed exit of his Master's presence. Qui-Gon stared down at the boy, blood pounding in his ears.  
  
Him? The boy wanted him? Obi-Wan Kenobi wanted him. The very idea made Qui- Gon want to laugh and at the same time made him ill with anxiety. Why in all the galaxy would someone want so desperately the approval and companionship of Qui-Gon Jinn?  
  
He carried Obi-Wan down the corridor, sparing an occasional glance for the youth every few minutes. There was something different about the boy now – and it was not the blood, grime, or the bruises.  
  
Out in the open he quickened his pace. He wanted to get off the miserable planet as soon as possible. The safest place for he and Obi-Wan was in space. The boy in his arms shifted and soft ginger colored hairs tickled his neck.  
  
Not an entirely unpleasant feeling.  
  
Startled by the uncharacteristic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth he coughed gruffly and forced the lips into a frown. The head nestled against his shoulder moved. Sleepy blue-green eyes, hazy and half lidded, peered up at him.  
  
"Master?" The soft utterance was plainly asking for an explanation – and also plainly unaware of the Master's intrusion only a few short moments ago.  
  
"The ship is just ahead, Obi-Wan. You – ah – you fainted." He paused awkwardly. Whatever he had noticed about the boy earlier was gone – the lax features were now scrunched up in obvious confusion. A fine line appeared between the brows. "Your injuries may be more serious than I initially thought."  
  
Obi-Wan blanched. "I'm sorry," he whispered as the memories came rushing back. He remembered the dark room, the body, the fear, the way the floor spun when he moved –  
  
"I'm sorry," he repeated, shutting his eyes against the burning shame. He hated that feeling. He felt it entirely too often for his liking. He squirmed in the man's arms, suddenly embarrassed as well. "I can walk – "  
  
"No." Obi-Wan was not alone in his surprise at the quick response. Qui-Gon mulled over the strange thoughts flitting through his mind – worries and concerns, emotional aches and regrets – thoughts he deliberately shied away from. He buried them deep in his mind with another empty promise to be examined when he had the time. Qui-Gon had found himself doing that often over the past two years.  
  
Obi-Wan protested weakly. "Really, Master, I'm sorry. I can walk – " Oh, but the warmth felt ever so nice.  
  
"Nonsense," came the curt reply. Big hands tightened around him securely. Obi-Wan stared up at his Master, hope he had thought long dead stirring from somewhere deep within. Qui-Gon continued. "Besides – I do not mind carrying you."  
  
Obi-Wan's breathing sounded suddenly ragged to his ears and he ducked his head not wanting the other to notice. He leaned it against the broad chest and said nothing. The Padawan's existence dwindled to his Master's strong and steady breathing, the powerful arms wrapped around him, the calm, sure thud of the man's heart.  
  
He enveloped himself in the warmth of the man and even tried accessing their bond, sending a small tendril to gently probe it. He felt something strange there, something he could not quite place. It did not feel as chilly and unused as it did normally, but he pulled away when he scraped against his Master's strong shielding. He forced himself to relax, turning his face to nestle against his Master's shoulder, and his eyes drifted shut. He tried to forget that this was completely out of the ordinary, that his Master had never seemed to show this much concern for him before, and focused solely on soaking up the warmth he was finally being offered.  
  
* * * *  
  
Obi-Wan had drifted off again and lay still in Qui-Gon's arms, quivering delicately. Back in the small Republic vessel they had arrived in, the Master lowered his Padawan to the cot in one of the tiny cabins. He turned to go, feeling strangely unsure of himself, but stopped in the door. Looking back he found two eyes, dusty blue-gray in the artificial light, regarding him silently.  
  
Too late, Obi-Wan remembered himself and his gaze flitted away. He pushed himself up despite sore, protesting muscles and joints. He noticed a fierce burning on his back and surmised that with the absence of that numbing chill he was now being allowed to feel the extent of his injuries. Force, but his head hurt terribly.  
  
"Master," he began and hesitated. An image of that mauled corpse floated up to his thoughts and he shuddered. Qui-Gon knew a coward when he saw one. He had identified Obi-Wan as one from the start. No wonder he had always been so distant. "I – I'm sorry, Master," he said finally in hushed tones.  
  
The man opened a cabinet close to the door and took out a small medkit. He tossed it onto the cot beside Obi-Wan.  
  
"We'll discuss it later – Padawan," he said, suddenly unable to look at those sorrowful eyes anymore. He missed the spark in them at the use of the boy's title. He backed out into the corridor, doing his best not to notice the stiffness with which the apprentice moved. "Get some rest," he added, but that did not seem to be enough. Qui-Gon wanted, more than anything at that moment, to close himself up in the cockpit and be away from the pitiful sight of the battered boy. Merely looking at the Padawan gave him strange feelings of near parental longing. Pangs of regret stabbed through his heart.  
  
"Obi-Wan – "  
  
The boy was tugging at an off-white roll of bandages that had snagged on something unseen within the kit. He raised bright eyes in response, full of something that frightened Qui-Gon more than he cared to admit.  
  
So he would not have to look at them the Master suddenly lunged forward and took the roll from his apprentice's hands. He unhooked it from where it had caught on a pin and set it aside. Gently wiping away the blood and dirt from a deep and jagged gash on the boy's inner arm he pressed a strip of bacta soaked gauze on the wound. He deftly wrapped the bandage around it and to keep it in place he fixed a small strip of adhesive on the end. He stood and grabbed a thick blanket from off a nearby shelf. Avoiding Obi- Wan's extremely hopeful stare he wrapped it loosely around the boy's shoulders. Backing away he explained gruffly, "I'll be in the cockpit. Clean up and, ah – and keep warm. I will bring you food in a short while." He turned and all but fled down the corridor. 


	4. SA: 4

Stone Appeal: 4  
  
  
  
They had brutally beaten him until a vicious blow to his head with a thick rod had left him unconscious. Obi-Wan stared into the 'fresher mirror at his naked chest, the mess of bruises and cuts, and was not sure if he felt more angry with his attackers or himself.  
  
He had noticed that sometimes it hurt to breathe and he gingerly touched his chest with a wince. He had waited for Qui-Gon in his cabin but it seemed the man had either forgotten him or found something more important to tend to.  
  
The Padawan looked down at the open medical kit on the vanity and sighed. He had put this off long enough. He pulled out a bottle of disinfectant and a clean rag. Making sure his shields were firmly in place he reached around as far as he could and began the awkward and painful process of cleaning the grisly wounds.  
  
The youth was hardly in a good position to carry the cleaning out and began to feel that his efforts were proving to be fruitless.  
  
"Like everything else you do," he suddenly hissed at his image. He stifled a small cry as the disinfectant sharply stung him through a particularly deep wound near his side and threw the rag down with a bitter growl.  
  
He twisted around and craned his neck to peer in the mirror. His back looked even worse than it had before he started – if that were possible. Blood had oozed out and mingled with the clear liquid of the cleanser, creating a light pink sheen over pale skin striped with deep red. He turned back around and stared at his reflection, eyes brimming with frustrated tears.  
  
Oh, *why* could he do nothing right?  
  
Bracing both hands on the vanity he leaned forward, staring into the perfect doubles of stormy blue eyes.  
  
"Pathetic," he spat suddenly and straightened. He grabbed the discarded rag and reached around himself again, furiously and determinedly scrubbing what he could of his abused back, accepting the fierce sting of the disinfectant and losing himself in it.  
  
* * * *  
  
"Master?"  
  
The small voice jerked Qui-Gon from his thoughts. He turned away from the ship's console and found Obi-Wan standing in the entrance to the cockpit, a tray of food in his hands. The boy wore a loose gray sleep shirt and matching pants. The Master frowned when he noticed the wiggling of bare toes. The ship's decking was too cool to be walking around without footwear…  
  
Shaking such trivial thoughts from his head he responded, "Yes, Obi-Wan? Shouldn't you be resting?"  
  
"Well – Yes, Master." A small tremor shook the voice. Obi-Wan swallowed thickly, pushing aside the burning pain of his wounds. He seemed to have gotten carried away earlier. He offered a timid smile and went on. "You said you would bring me something to eat and – well – I assumed you had forgotten – " Seeing the grimace that passed over the older Jedi's face he hastily continued. "But maybe not? Anyway, I apologize for my lack of patience, Master – "  
  
Qui-Gon noticed the boy apologized entirely too much.  
  
"I was just terribly hungry so I fed myself and – and thought you might like something to eat as well." Obi-Wan caught his bottom lip between his teeth and gripped the tray tightly, willing his hands to cease their shaking.  
  
His Master sighed and turned his face away, gazing out the viewport for a long moment. He regretted that he had put off seeing Obi-Wan again, which was why he had not yet brought the boy his meal. He had needed time to think. Looking back at the youth he made a silent promise to never put the Padawan second to anything, especially his own idle musings, again.  
  
Obi-Wan saw that the man's eyes were tired and suddenly felt horribly guilty for disturbing him.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, a fierce blush coloring his cheeks. He backed away. "You're probably busy." Remembering the tray of food in his hands he rushed forward and placed it on the co-pilot's seat, hoping to make amends. In his haste a chunk of bread fell off the side of the plate and onto the tray. "Sorry," he whispered again, nearly automatically, and picked it up to place it back where it belonged. "It's not much, but – just some hydrated travel meals. I wanted to thank you – "  
  
A hand, huge and warm, touched his shoulder gently, then slid over to lightly grasp the nape of his neck.  
  
Obi-Wan froze.  
  
"Oh, Padawan." The deep voice held a lifetime of sorrow, regret. "Do I truly make you so nervous?"  
  
"Wh-what, Master?"  
  
Qui-Gon studied the boy intently, not removing his hand. He frowned suddenly. "You're cold." He rubbed a gentle thumb across a deep bruise on the slender neck.  
  
Obi-Wan finally raised his eyes and Qui-Gon was crushed to find such naked incredulity in the blue green depths. He wondered how he could have been so blind for so long. He took the boy's face in his hands.  
  
Obi-Wan smiled uncertainly, not sure if what was happening was real.  
  
"I'm sorry, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said honestly.  
  
The youth's smile wobbled. "What are you talking about, Master?" He was unable to raise his voice above a whisper.  
  
Qui-Gon's smile was bittersweet. He pulled Obi-Wan closer and folded his arms around the boy, holding him to his own broad chest.  
  
Obi-Wan stiffened with a sharp intake of breath. Qui-Gon released the boy, afraid that perhaps he had gone too far too soon. All it took was one glance for realization to dawn on him. The boy's eyes widened and he began to back away. Any uncertainties Qui-Gon may have had previously disappeared.  
  
*"It's not bad. My back was cut – It's not serious."*  
  
The Master grabbed his Padawan by the arm and pulled him back.  
  
"Master! It's not bad –"  
  
Qui-Gon turned the boy around and pushed the sleep shirt up. He clenched his jaw tightly at the sight before him.  
  
Messily applied bandages did little to hide the jagged and gaping red wounds on his Padawan's back. One big hand hovered over the ravaged skin, unbelieving, then gently clasped one trembling shoulder. He guided his apprentice around to face him. Obi-Wan's head was down, his eyes lowered as well.  
  
"Why didn't you…" The question died on Qui-Gon's lips.  
  
*Why didn't you tell me?*  
  
The boy should not have had to. Any halfway decent Master would have known the full extent of his Padawan's injuries right away.  
  
"Did you do that?" He tugged lightly at one of the bandages that looped around the boy's chest.  
  
The youth's gaze flitted upward and then away just as quickly.  
  
A nod.  
  
A pause.  
  
Then: "I tried, I – I did my best, Master. It was difficult to reach and very awkward wrapping the bandages – " The words came out in such a rush that Qui-Gon hardly understood them.  
  
Taking the boy's face in his hands once again effectively quieted him. Qui- Gon peered into the Padawan's watery eyes and, without sparing a moment for second thought, let his carefully constructed shields peel away. He reached for the bond.  
  
The Master was suddenly very glad he was sitting down – the force of the images that played through his mind surely would have brought him to his knees if he stood.  
  
He was at first enraged.  
  
They had tortured his Padawan.  
  
They had deliberately hurt and frightened him. The gleam of a dagger flashed in his mind's eyes. Fists and boots and small, cruel eyes all passed through him in the vision. A sharp chill cut straight to his heart and the Master could not contain his responding shudder. He recognized the corpse. To him it had been just that – a corpse. A lost life to be mourned. No more. But now he saw it through the eyes of a child.  
  
It was horrible.  
  
He then felt shame.  
  
He saw his careless entrance; felt his Padawan's heart be crushed at having his wounds and fears dismissed so coldly. He saw the many doubts and insecurities of a boy with great potential, and knew he was the cause of many of them. They swirled darkly around the visions, taunting.  
  
When the images slowed in coming and finally stopped Qui-Gon cradled his Padawan's head to his chest, somehow holding him without hurting him. He felt the boy's hesitant and questioning probe through their bond and welcomed it. He let the youth explore for a short while, then used something he immediately vowed to use much, much more often in the future.  
  
~I will never hurt you again, my Padawan.~  
  
The joy that came rushing back at him was so pure, so incredible and bright, that he likened it to the feel of the Force itself. Obi-Wan hid his face against his Master's shoulder and threw his arms around the man's neck, ignoring the painful protest of his bruised shoulder. He held on tightly, as if letting go meant letting go of the change that had come over his Master, and began to cry softly.  
  
Qui-Gon held the boy, waiting out the release. When the youth's happy weeping was reduced to quiet, hitching breaths the master dropped a kiss into the soft ginger spikes.  
  
"Do you think you can forgive me enough to let me properly clean your wounds as I should have in the first place?"  
  
Obi-Wan pulled back slightly and regarded Qui-Gon with eyes made bright by tears.  
  
"Master," he said with an embarrassed chuckle, "I would let a rancor clean my wounds if it thought it could do it properly."  
  
Qui-Gon had to laugh with him.  
  
the end (perhaps) 


	5. SA: 5

Stone Appeal: 5  
  
  
  
Obi-Wan stared wide-eyed into the blackness, shivering despite the blanket tightly wrapped around him. He thought he heard footsteps outside the dark room and barely stifled a small cry. Icy tears of fright pooled in his eyes and spilled down his cheeks.  
  
That body was still out there. He knew it. He could nearly feel its presence, thick and heavy with death in the air. Even worse he could still see it clearly in his mind's eye. The blank stare from those glazed eyes haunted him mercilessly and he could very nearly feel the tip of a sharp dagger piercing the skin of his throat.  
  
Another sound from outside told him someone was coming closer. He curled up even more tightly under the blanket, not allowing himself to wonder where it had come from. He wondered what they would do to him this time. Would They use the dagger on him again? A whip? Electro-jabber? Maybe just beat him. Images of tools he had glimpsed pranced wildly through his mind, whispering to him their evil, hurtful intentions.  
  
One man had nearly strangled him to death. He still remembered the red haze that soon dimmed to black, licking at the edges of his vision. He had done something – lashed out in some way that he could not remember – and it had made the man angry. He had been stopped just in time.  
  
Obi-Wan had slumped to the ground, raggedly sucking in huge gulps of sweet and precious oxygen. Each time he inhaled his bruised throat threatened to close in on him but he knew it would not and stood the pain.  
  
He shivered from his fear and scooted backwards toward the wall. The door then opened and light suddenly knifed through the solid wall of black. A powerful and broad silhouette filled the entrance of the dark room They kept him in. Obi-Wan whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
"Please go away – " His voice shook, revealing the depths of his terror.  
  
Oh please, oh please, oh please…  
  
Footsteps came closer, unusually soft on the stone floor. Maybe They wanted to sneak up on him. Maybe They wanted to scare him. He did not care that he was audibly crying. He dimly wondered where the damp hardness of the ground had gone, replaced by this cushioned, yielding surface.  
  
It was a trick, he decided. They were trying to fool him. He shook his head in quiet defiance, still not daring to open his eyes.  
  
Obi-Wan felt a gentle weight on his shoulder and cringed, clutching the blanket ever tighter. When had they given him a blanket?  
  
"Padawan." The soft voice easily broke through the thick haziness of his confusion. Obi-Wan blinked away his tears and gazed up into the eyes of his Master. The older Jedi had set his room's lights on dim and now sat at the edge of the boy's bed. "You're home," he said, smoothing his fingers through ginger hair.  
  
Obi-Wan shot up in bed. "Master!" Looking around he wondered how he could have mistaken his room for the place those people had kept him in. He suddenly felt mortally embarrassed at his confusion – it had been so turbulent he had woken Qui-Gon. He started to tell the man an apology but halted when his Master reached out and placed a hand over his chest. Obi- Wan realized his heart was thundering rapidly against his ribs.  
  
"Have you been running, Padawan?" the man asked with a smile.  
  
Obi-Wan fell into a bout of nervous giggles edged with just enough desperation that he was soon weeping.  
  
The Padawan felt two strong arms pull him forward and circle around him. He nestled into the warm embrace and let the feeling of safety finally settle in his bones, driving away the last remnants of his fright. He eagerly soaked up the warmth and comfort being offered through physical and mental touch.  
  
Qui-Gon rested his cheek on his Padawan's head and breathed deeply. The boy fit rather snugly, he thought, in the circle of his arms. He held Obi-Wan firmly but gently, wary of the youth's still tender back.  
  
They had returned to the temple two days ago but his apprentice had spent part of one of them in a bacta tank and the rest sleeping at the healer's center. The worst of his wounds had healed and now the boy was merely sore and bruised, but much happier.  
  
When he wasn't dreaming of the atrocities taken up against him, anyway.  
  
The boy shivered in his arms and then stilled. Qui-Gon knew the child was still awake but said nothing, content to merely hold the youth. Obi-Wan shifted slightly.  
  
"Sorry," he muttered quietly.  
  
"Obi-Wan," the Master warned. The boy tensed. Qui-Gon sighed and absently stroked one tear-streaked cheek. "I told you not to apologize unless you've done something wrong," he explained. He pressed a light kiss into the ginger hair and felt the boy relax. "Do you want to talk about it?" he finally asked.  
  
"No."  
  
The answer made Qui-Gon wary. He knew he would have to earn the teen's trust, after all that he had *not* done, but could not help but be somewhat impatient. Since he *had* discovered the treasure that was his Padawan a short three days ago he never ceased to wonder if he had always been so thickheaded. It made his heart ache to see how eager the child was to accept him, and knew that Obi-Wan had been waiting for this time even before the Master took him as his apprentice.  
  
"I'm all right, now," Obi-Wan said but did not move away. "I was just confused." He shifted and looked at Qui-Gon. The Master was both warmed and surprised to see a small and endearingly shy smile on the boy's face. "Thank you for waking me."  
  
Qui-Gon wasn't ready to let go either. "Think nothing of it." He rubbed his hand in small circles on the slender back. "Whenever you need me, for anything – " he started to say seriously.  
  
"I know, Master." Obi-Wan sighed and rested his head against the man's shoulder. "Thank you."  
  
  
  
the end 


End file.
